


All You Need Is Love

by jakia



Category: Glee
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Gen, Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 13:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jakia/pseuds/jakia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. The first time they kiss, it’s at Blaine’s bachelor party, the day before he’s supposed to marry Rachel Berry. The next time they kiss at a bachelor party, it’s at their own, but there’s fifty years in between the two events, a lot of history, and a lot of love, too. A historical AU look at Klaine, from 1962 - 2005. WIP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All You Need Is Love

**Author's Note:**

> This is a WIP, and will be updated occasionally.

_1962_  
  
The first time they kiss, it’s at Blaine’s bachelor party, the day before he’s supposed to marry Rachel Berry.  
  
(The next time they kiss at a bachelor party, it’s at their own, but there’s fifty years in between the two events, a lot of history, and a lot of love, too, so pay attention.)  
  
Kurt Hummel is Blaine’s best friend and has been since they met on a staircase seven years ago, but everyone who knows the both of them knows Kurt’s not the best at planning wild parties. Which is how Kurt, despite being the best man, ends up having his plans for a quiet night amongst close friends overruled for a night on the town planned by one Cooper Anderson.  
  
Kurt’s feelings aren’t hurt: he had too much else to do for this damn wedding, anyway.  
  
But because the bachelor party is being planned by Cooper and not Kurt, it becomes much less of a bachelor party and more of a giant bachelor party _spectacular_. There are girls _everywhere,_ all in various states of undress. Kurt only notices because he forces himself to look at them, because he knows what happens when people notice that he...doesn’t. Mostly, he notices that their costumes (what little that they are wearing, at least) are tacky and that he could design something much, much nicer.   
  
Blaine doesn’t notice the girls at all. Blaine is currently trying to match one of his father’s friends--one who outweighs him by two hundred pounds and must be a foot taller--shot by shot.  
  
This will end well.  
  
But Kurt _loves_ Blaine, loves him in a way he can’t actually put into words, and so he stays beside him all night, even though he’d rather be doing other things. It’s not all bad, because he’s long since known that a Blaine who drinks too much is a clingy and overly-affectionate Blaine, one who hugs him and lays his legs in Kurt’s lap and whispers sinfully affectionate things into Kurt’s ears, making him blush, which is all at once hell and heaven both.  
  
No one else notices; they’re all too focused on the girls.  
  
A little after midnight, Blaine pats his cheek lovingly. “I need to pee.”  
  
“...Okay?”  


“I don’t think I can actually stand up right now.”  
  
So Kurt sighs and picks Blaine up, half dragging him to the tiny little closet of a bathroom, stepping over passed out bodies and narrowing avoiding the vomit on the floor. Blaine is giggly and useless, but Kurt’s got his arm around his waist and it feels...nice.  
  
Maybe he drank a little too much, too, despite not drinking much of anything.  
  
They make it to the bathroom, and Kurt barely manages to get the door shut before Blaine kisses him.  
  
It’s not a gentle kiss: it’s desperate and needy and so hot Kurt feels like his skin is on _fire_ , but it’s _Blaine_ , Blaine is kissing him, Blaine has his tongue in his mouth, so all Kurt can do is pull him closer, tugging at his messy curls and savoring the feel of his skin against his.   
  
He never knew Blaine was--was like him. He _suspected_ , at times, but how do you bring that up? How do you talk about that? Especially since Blaine never had a problem going on dates with girls, and flirting with girls (flirting with _Kurt_ , too, but Kurt always thought he just imagined that, just his own wishful thinking) and now Blaine was kissing him like his life depended on it, like if he didn’t kiss Kurt hard enough his soul would leave him.  
  
He pulls away, desperate and panting, a trail of spit lingering between their lips.  
  
“I wish I was marrying you tomorrow instead.” Blaine confesses, and Kurt’s heart stops beating.  
  
He swallows. “I wish you were, too.”  
  
Blaine rests his head on his shoulder, and Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine’s waist, and they stay like that, silent and together, for as long as they can.  
  


* * *

  
  
They don’t talk about it.  
  
They’ve got a wedding to prepare for, after all, and even if Blaine said he wished he could marry Kurt instead, it’s not like he _can,_ right? So it doesn’t matter, he’s still going to marry Rachel, and Kurt’s still going to be his best man, and Kurt’s going to die alone surrounded by cats, and he feels slightly better about that because last night Blaine kissed him.  
  
He _wants_ to talk about it, but what can he say?   
  
(He wants to say: _I love you,_ and _don’t marry Rachel it’s killing me,_ and _I just want to kiss you and hold you and touch you and grow old with you why is that so much to ask?_ But he doesn’t say any of those things, and neither does Blaine.)  
  
Besides, it’s not like they have much time together, anyway. Rachel’s dress still needs hemming and Blaine’s father keeps wanting to give him “advice” about “being a man” and then Cooper is still in town being Cooper, and that keeps everyone busy.  
  
Sometimes, though, they’re in the same room together and their eyes will meet, and Kurt—with a flush of heat rushing through his body—will remember what it feels like to kiss Blaine. He’ll remember what it feels like to hold him, to capture his mouth with his own, to feel him, breathless and heavy in his arms.

He looks across the room, and his eyes will meet Blaine’s, and he knows Blaine is thinking about kissing him, too.

 

* * *

 

Blaine doesn’t marry Rachel.

He intends to. He promised that he would, and Blaine is a man of honor above everything else. He even stands in front of the altar with Kurt beside him while his family and friends take a seat, and wait for the future Mrs. Anderson to walk down the aisle.

Only, she never does: Kurt’s stepbrother left the army last night and showed up at Rachel’s doorstep, and the two of them are probably half-way to New York right now, if Kurt had to guess.

Which means Blaine just got stood up at his own wedding.

Kurt can tell he’s trying his best not to look relieved by that.

Everything is a little chaotic after that. Most of the guests go home once they learn there’s not going to be a wedding after all. Mr. Anderson is _angry_ , and spends most of his afternoon yelling at Mr. Berry, about how much this wedding cost him and how embarrassing this situation is for the Anderson family, and says absolutely nothing about how his youngest son might feel, being left alone at the altar. Mrs. Berry breaks open the bottle of wine and starts drinking with Kurt’s stepmother while Rachel’s adopted sister Beth crawls around the floor and gets into things. Cooper threatens to drive after Finn and Rachel and give them what-for, but he gets talked out of it fairly quickly.

Rachel’s Uncle LeRoy just seems very, very relieved.

Kurt’s father hasn’t stopped laughing yet.

Kurt, for his part, does his best to get Blaine away from their meddling families and the watchful eyes of strangers and the whispers of scandal. He sets Blaine down in the kitchen and pours him a shot of whiskey.

“How do you feel?”

His best friend, the love of his life, the man who kissed him three days ago, smiles at him softly, his eyes tired but hopeful. “Grateful, mostly. Remind me to send Finn a thank-you basket.”

Kurt laughs with him.

Together, they cut into Blaine’s wedding cake (they can’t take it back, now: why let it go to waste?) and pour themselves a glass of champagne and feel, almost, like they’re celebrating.

“I didn’t really want to marry Rachel, you know.” It’s the first time he’s said it sober, and it sends Kurt’s heart fluttering in his chest.

They don’t talk about the kiss, but this is the closest they can get to acknowledging it, to acknowledging that it _wasn’t_ a drunken mistake, that it was something they both wanted.

He swallows his bite of expensive wedding cake. “I know you didn’t.”

Blaine doesn’t kiss him, or hold his hand, but he slides his foot across underneath the table and rubs it gently against Kurt’s ankle, like—like he would for a _girl_ he likes, playing footsie, and it’s so _brazen_ that it makes Kurt hot underneath his collar.

He loves him. He loves him, he loves him, he _loves_ him.

 

* * *

 

_1963_

 

Blaine moves in with Kurt in New York after that. To his father, he tells him its because he needs to get out of Ohio after his failure of a marriage, just a temporary thing, but they both know that’s not true.

Kurt needs a roommate, after all, given that Rachel and Finn have eloped. And they both— _want_ to be with each other, even if they can’t explain it like that.

It doesn’t happen the way Kurt imagined. When Kurt first pictured Blaine moving in with him, it was all he could think about it: the two of them sharing a bed together, days spent where they do nothing but kiss and together, in the privacy of their home.

But Kurt still has a job at the magazine, and Blaine has his classes, and his own room where he sleeps, and for a while it just feels like an extended sleepover, the kind they used to have when they were growing up. Platonic, where they don’t…touch.

But then there are little moments of domesticity that get to him, too. There are shared cups of coffee in the morning, sleepy, well-meaning hugs, flirty little “Well _hello_ sailor!” comments that come when they come across one another getting out of the shower.

It’s heaven.

It’s hell.

It cannot last.

Three months after Blaine moves in with him, things finally, _finally_ come to a head. Blaine is arguing with his father over the phone, because his father has found another girl for him to marry and wants him to move back to Ohio, but Blaine doesn’t want to. Blaine never wants to.

“He just doesn’t _get_ it,” Blaine whines as Kurt hands him his drink, sitting down next to him on the couch. “I don’t want to marry, especially not to a stranger.”

“I know.” Kurt swallows whiskey. Then, in a moment of sheer bravery, he says: “You want to marry me instead.”

Blaine freezes, and Kurt thinks that this is it. He might’ve just ruined everything.

“You remember that?”

“Of course I do.” Kurt breathes quickly, setting his drink down on the coffee table instead. “I wasn’t sure if _you_ remembered it or not.”

Blaine sets his drink down very, very carefully, and tentatively places his hand on Kurt’s knee. “I meant it. I never—I wasn’t sure---how you---I mean, I know what people _say_ about you but then you dated Mercedes for years and I just--“

If Kurt waits for Blaine to make a move, then he is going to be waiting for the rest of his life.

So, he kisses him. Tentatively, cutting him off mid-sentence, but it’s warm and real and no one can say they’re drunk or they’ve forgotten, not this time.

Blaine kisses him back, wraps a hand into his hair and pulls him closer, until Kurt is half-in his lap, his arms wrapped around Blaine’s waist, pulling him as close as possible.

“I love you.” Blaine whispers when they finally pull apart, breathless and tangled against one another.

Kurt knows there must be a stupid expression on his face, but he can’t even care. “I love you, too.” He whispers instead, and pulls his back towards him for a kiss.

 

* * *

 

 

_1965_

Things change after that. More often than not, Blaine wakes up in Kurt’s bed, his limbs tangled next to Kurt’s own. One of them will wake up first and wake the other with a kiss. Sometimes they’ll share a shower, but more often than not one of them will shower while the other makes coffee and breakfast. Then they’ll sit together and read the paper, their ankles crossing beneath the table as they hold hands on the top of it.

Most days, they make up stories.

“If my father asks,” Blaine tells him, with a soft, mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Her name is Rebecca.”

“She plays piano,” Kurt supplies, taking another long sip of coffee. “You met at a piano bar. That’s why you started talking.”

“Yes. And she’s a red-head—her grandfather was an Irishman.” Blaine grins as he grabs another slice of toast. “But I don’t think it will work out between us—she’s far too high-maintenance for someone like me.”

Kurt nods, and flips through the newspaper. “Wait, am I still dating Cindy?”

“I thought it was Sarah.”

“No, you’re right, it’s Sarah. Shit. We need to break up, or my dad’s going to want to know why I haven’t married her. Why do Sarah and I break up?”

Blaine bats his eyelashes, and says in a high-pitched imitation of a young woman’s voice: _“Because you spend all your time at that silly magazine, and you_ never _spend any time with me!”_

Kurt laughs so hard he almost cries. “I _love_ you.”

Blaine leans across the table and kisses him softly. “I love you, too.”

 

* * *

 

 

_1967_

 

If Kurt thought he could, he’d tell his Dad.

He’d stop making up stories about non-existent girls, and he’d start telling his Dad about Blaine instead. He’d tell him how much he loves Blaine, how he wants to spend the rest of his life with him, how he’s never loved any girl as much as he loves Blaine.

But he doesn’t know—he doesn’t know how his dad would react. He doesn’t know if he would hate him, if he would never talk to him again. If he would think he were something unnatural, if he would think Kurt needed to be _fixed_ —

Well, Kurt wouldn’t be able to live with himself, if that were the case.

 

* * *

 

 

_1968_

 

That doesn’t mean people don’t ask questions, sometimes.

It’s the forth of July, and Rachel Berry-Hudson is bouncing Kurt’s nephew on her knees while Blaine coos over Kurt’s newest niece. Kurt’s not a part of the conversation—he’s watching his father at the grill, because he almost lost him once and he doesn’t—can’t—lose him again.

He doesn’t mean to listen in on their conversation: it just _happens._

“I know it never worked out between the two of us,” Rachel says, bouncing Kurt's nephew on her knees and running a hand through his dark hair. “But don’t you ever want to get married someday? Settle down, raise a family?”

If Blaine glances over at Kurt, he does it so quickly that no one else notices. Instead, Blaine leans forward and pats her unattended knee gently.  “I think it’s probably for the best that you and I didn’t get married,” he says quietly, cradling Kurt's niece in his other arm like a professional. “As I’m rather attached to my bachelor life. I don’t think I would make a good husband.”

That’s the biggest lie Kurt has ever heard. Blaine would be a _fantastic_ husband. Kurt would know—he’s the one who is practically married to him, after all.

Rachel clicks her tongue at him. “What about kids, though? You seem like such a natural father. It’s hard to imagine you don’t want a couple for yourself, even if it did mean you’d have to settle down—“

“You say that like I’m such an old man!” Blaine laughs quietly, gently rocking Annie to sleep in Kurt’s childhood backyard. “I’m not even thirty, Rachel!”

She sticks her tongue out like a child, the kind of thing she’d scold her son for doing, if he could see her. “Well, you aren’t a _young_ man anymore, either! And I was just asking!”

He doesn’t answer her at first: instead, he watches the little girl's face as she starts to fall asleep, and it’s such a pretty picture—of Blaine and the child, of the possibilities he and Kurt cannot even pretend that they might want—that Kurt wishes he had a camera, that he could take a picture of it and keep it forever and ever.

“I think,” Blaine answers Rachel softly, once the baby is snoring steadily in his arms. “That, much as I like children, they aren’t something I have to have.” He stands quietly and walks the babe over to her bassinet, setting her down as gently as possible. “And I’d rather keep the life I have now than lose everything just to have them.”

Kurt’s heart skips a beat in his chest, and he misses the _look_ his father shoots at him.

Rachel rolls her eyes. “You and Kurt, I _swear,_ you’re just alike! You’re _both_ going to be miserable old bachelors, aren’t you?”

This time, Blaine does look at Kurt, and he winks at him. “Yes, but at least we’ll be together, won’t we?”

Kurt cannot help but snort. “Blaine doesn’t need a wife, Rachel.” He says, pulling out plates and buns. “He has me to make sure his clothes get washed.”

Blaine grins. “And I make sure Kurt eats!” He says, putting a hot dog on the plate and passing it to Kurt. “So he doesn't need a wife to do that.”

“We have it all figured out. This way we never have to get married. We can just sleep with easy girls and live the bachelor's life for as long as possible--”

Rachel huffs, crossing her arms angrily. “You're _mocking_ me!”

“Us?”

“Mock _you_?"

“ _Never._ ”

They laugh and Rachel squabbles, and in the background Burt Hummel bounces his only grandson on his knee, and admires his family.

* * *

 

 

_1968_

Kurt will never know this, but Burt almost said something to him that night.

He almost said: _It's okay, you know. I know about you and Blaine. I always have, and I love you anyway. You don't have to keep making up stories about girls, just for my sake._

But he doesn't.

Instead, he has a heart attack and dies before morning, leaving Kurt an orphan at twenty-eight.

 


End file.
